Twisted Us
by maybesomeday8
Summary: She always knew her past would catch up with her someday, but this? This was something even she couldn't have predicted. EOish.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ They're Dicks. I just borrowed them, but I haven't given them back yet. Is that wrong?

_Authors Note:_ _I just wanted to thank everyone who left such wonderful reviews for my other story. It's always nice to have your first story so warmly received :) This one's a bit darker, and it'll be longer... I realize the Olivia being in trouble stories are overdone, but I like taking a cliche plot and trying to put an original spin on it :) Let me know what you think!_

**Twisted Us  
Chapter One  
Written by Shay**

**16th Precinct**  
**SVU Squad room**  
**August 7, 2006**

"Where the hell is Benson?" Captain Cragen demanded to know as he exited his office. His lips were set at an even line, but a dash of worry dotted his brow as he surveyed his detectives.

The look on Elliot's face was one of undeniable concern, his frown darkening his features as he sat back in his chair. "She's not answering her cell."

"Or her home line," Munch added, his tone serious. "Called four times, all went to the machine."

"Not in court," Fin contributed as he reentered the room. "Novak hasn't seen her since yesterday."

Silence enveloped the three men, as far as silence was possible in the busy squad room. The same thought weighed heavily on all three minds: it wasn't like Olivia to be more than fifteen minutes late without calling and here it was nearing eleven. Four hours late.

"I don't like this, Cap," Elliot voiced their thoughts, his frown deepening. "She hasn't called, nobody's seen her and she's not answering her phone. Something's not right."

The words hung heavily in the air and Cragen exhaled loudly.

"All right, here's what I want done. John, keep trying her phones. Fin, I want you to check the traffic report; see if there's been any accidents between here and her apartment. Elliot, head on over to her place, make sure everything's in order over there. Let's not panic just yet; Olivia's a damn good cop and more than capable of handling herself."

A trio of heads acknowledged his words with a nod; Fin dropping into his chair while Elliot vacated his. The younger man paused just inside the door to the bullpen, his blue eyes meeting the weary gaze of his superior. No words were spoken, none were needed. They both knew, were both aware that something wasn't right. And their thoughts were the same.

_Please, God, let her be all right._

* * *

He was running on auto-pilot; the drive from the precinct to his partner's apartment barely registering. He vaguely recalled nearly side-swiping a taxi in his rush, before instinctively flipping on his siren. 

His heart had firmly lodged itself in his throat somewhere around the fifth unanswered call to her phone and had yet to return to its rightful place in his chest. It twisted and clenched, pumping his blood with such ferocity he could hear it pounding through his ears, the sound deafening. He was oblivious though, his only thoughts on Olivia and the impending sense of dread forming in the pit of his stomach.

The feeling only intensified as he swerved into a vacant spot across the street from her building; his parking erratic at best. His feet hit the pavement, propelling his body from the vehicle when he'd barely turned the ignition off and claimed the keys with his right hand. He started across the mercifully empty street, determination in his eyes as they took a quick inventory of his surroundings. Nothing stuck him as out of the ordinary until his gaze landed on an all too familiar sedan.

His fingers curled around the handle of her car as he rounded to the driver's side door, unsure if finding it locked relieved him or only increased his worry. There was nothing of interest inside the mostly unused car, so he left it behind and broke into a brisk jog as he made his way to the front door of the six-story walkup Olivia resided in. Quickly producing the key she'd entrusted to his care, he pushed his way in, breaking into a run through the empty lobby and up the stairs.

The fear he'd been holding at bay came at him full force as he reached the fourth-floor landing; his police training all but abandoning him when he rounded the corner to her door. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt, the emotion almost paralyzing as he lifted a heavy hand to knock quickly. No answer.

"Liv? Olivia, it's me. Open the door," he finally managed to choke out, finding his voice. Still no answer.

The warning bells in his head that had been tinkering for hours were now bellowing full force and he swallowed hard. Reaching for the doorknob, he paused only to have the door open without any further prompting. If he hadn't been worried before, he sure as hell was out of his mind with it now. Olivia _never_ left her door unlocked. Never.

Pulling his gun, he pushed his way into the quiet apartment; his eyes constantly on the move. He ducked into the kitchen to find it empty, before he moved on to the living room. The sight that met him there made his body go rigid, his heart to stop beating.

There wasn't a piece of furniture; a single possession that wasn't overturned. The couch was on its back, the coffee table upside down. The TV was on the floor, a hole in the screen that, he was sick to realize, was courtesy of a bullet. What made him sway unsteadily however, was the sickening smear of blood on the wall and across the wooden floor. Her blood.

Swallowing the bile that had made its presence known to the back of his throat, he reached for his cell phone, and with a shaking hand dialed the only number he could remember at the moment.

"Cap, it's me. You're gonna want to get down here. And bring CSU with you."

* * *

**Unknown Location**  
**August 7, 2006**

She came to slowly; her head pounding and groggy. A groan tore past her lips and she panted heavily, her eyes opening just enough to take a peek at her surroundings.

It was dark; the hard floor beneath her her first clue that she definitely wasn't in her own bed. Despite the nearly pitch black, she was aware of the small space. There wasn't enough light for her to see just how diminutive the room was, but she could feel the walls closing in around her. The nauseating smell was the next thing she became aware of, that of dank earth, sewage and something akin to rotting meat. The scent flooded her senses, making her stomach scream in protest while provoking her impending headache into a full-blown migraine. She groaned again and allowed her head to fall back against the dirt floor.

A sudden sequence of images flashed through her mind, though none of them distinguishable and her eyes fluttered shut at the on slot of pain they caused. Despite the physical reaction, she struggled to remember where she was and how she'd come to be there, but her memory remained a blank slate. Her brow furrowed at this realization and she frowned.

She couldn't remember anything past that morning. A hazy memory of getting ready for work claimed its rightful place, though that was as far as she got. Why the hell couldn't she remember?

Irritation settled over her then, and her eyes reopened to the darkened room. With a pained grunt, she pushed herself into a sitting position, her forehead creasing at the effort. Ignoring the wave of dizziness, she tested each of her limbs, relieved to find nothing broken or otherwise injured. Instinctively her left hand went to her head, and she winced as her fingers combed over something wet and sticky. Blood. Although not an inordinate amount, it was her own and suddenly the headache, dizzy spells and memory loss had reason.

Refocusing, her gaze swept over her surroundings. From what she could tell, there wasn't anything else in the room with her, save for the dirty blanket she sat on. Even more perplexing was that there didn't appear to be a way in. Or out, for that matter.

The slight poke of panic introduced itself to her gut, though she quickly squelched it. She was a cop; trained to be ready for any situation that might arise and she wasn't about to abandon that knowledge now. At least not until she knew exactly what she was facing and how she was going to get herself out of it.

With a huff of determination she rose to her knees, giving herself a moment's pause before she lumbered to her feet. She swayed from the movement and reached out to steady herself using the wall behind her. In doing so her foot got caught up in the blanket and sent her back down. She landed on her behind with a loud thud, and began coughing at the cloud of dust she'd kicked up. Her head throbbed and she couldn't hold in the moan as the blinding light of pain raced through her.

Clenching her teeth, she pushed aside her aches and climbed to her feet again. This time she remained standing and managed a smile at the victory. Unconsciously her hand fell to her waist in search of her gun. She was more than surprised when her fingers closed over the cool metal, not expecting to still be armed.

Her hopes rose but quickly fell as she removed the weapon from its holster only to find it void of any ammunition. A pang of something she refused to acknowledge shot through her and she sighed. She wasn't used to being unarmed in what she perceived to be a dangerous situation and it wasn't a feeling she particularly enjoyed. Still, she didn't reholster the gun; deciding that if worst came to worst, she could use the butt of the gun to do some damage. It was better than nothing.

With the Glock in one hand and the other pressed against the wall, she felt her way around the room with unsteady steps. Her chest tightened when her hand came in contact with something steel; the contrast to the dirt wall startling. Blindly she ran her hands over it, searching for some indication she could escape when she brushed against the unmistakable shape of a doorknob.

Tightening her hold on the gun, she took a deep breath and tried her luck. The round object turned easily under the pressure and she cautiously pushed the door open only to find herself staring into a pair of unfamiliar eyes, red with anger and animosity.

"Hello, Olivia."

_Shit_.

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer :_ I won them! There was a super-secret giveaway and I won! Or, y'know, not. Whatever. grumbles 

_Author's Note :_ Wow, thanks to everyone who left a review on the first chapter. I love hearing what people think, so please don't be shy and let me know! This chapter gave me hell (seriously, this is the hardest fandom I've ever written in), so I hope you find some enjoyment in it.

Oh, and just a general request - I'm in search of a new beta... someone with decent grammar skills, as mine suck a big one, and someone to bounce ideas off of. If you're interested, email me at Thanks :)

**Twisted Us **

**Chapter Two **

**Written by Shay**

_It was impulsive, that brief moment that changed everything. He'd thought about it, sure, but never expected to actually do it. He never thought he'd find the nerve to finally kiss her. Yet here they were, his hand fisted in her soft hair, hers curled around the base of his neck, their lips both grappling for control of the other. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet._

_Slowly, with the greatest of reluctance but a pressing need for oxygen, he pulled back, licking his lips to savor the remains of her kiss. He felt her questioning eyes on him before he lifted his gaze to meet hers. There was confusion in her eyes, lit by another emotion he couldn't define; one he didn't recognize._

_Her fingers traveled to her kiss swollen lips, her teeth biting down on the lower lip in contemplation. His heart jumped into his throat at her expression, suddenly certain that she was about to slap him for kissing her the way he had. Except that the corners of her mouth had twitched upward into a smile._

_"What was that for?"_

_Her inquiry held traces of amusement, of curiosity, but none of malice and he let out an uneasy breath before grinning._

_"Ah - you just looked like you need to be kissed."_

_Her brow furrowed. "I _looked_ like I needed to be kissed?"_

_He shrugged. "Yeah."_

_Another smile formed on her lips, startling in its brilliance. Her head shook in disbelief and she let out a soft chuckle. "You're full of shit, Stabler."_

_His grin grew. "I know."_

_Dark eyes regarded him for a moment. "You know, next time you want to kiss me, all you have to do is say so."_

_"Next time?" Elliot couldn't help but repeat hopefully. Her words had taken him by surprise; he'd expected her to be far more apprehensive and defensive about it than she seemed to be. She was almost... happy. Giddy, even. He never thought to associate that word with her before._

_"Next time," she confirmed, her thumb reaching over to remove her lipstick from his mouth. His eyes closed at the action and she grinned impishly. "After all, you never know when I might _need_ to be kissed again."_

The memory was like a punch in the gut and his stomach trembled with the threat of losing his breakfast. The bile tickled his throat with its acidic fingers, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut in an effort to keep it down. He couldn't afford to lose it now, not here. Not when she needed him.

Reopening his eyes, his gaze traveled over the expanse of her apartment, now flooded with CSU investigators, and the memory slammed into him again. They'd stood right where he stood now, just to the left of the couch. Her lips had been soft and pliant beneath his, her hair as silky as it looked. God, had that really only been last night? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

His attention was suddenly diverted to where one of the men from CSU came out of the bedroom, carrying a blood soaked fabric in an clear, plastic evidence bag. A blinding, paralyzing fear ran through him at the sight and he would've lost it had the heavy hand of his captain not landed on his shoulder just then.

"We're almost done here, Elliot. I want you to talk to some of her neighbors, find out if anyone heard of saw anything. Then I want you to park your ass at the crime labs until they have the results to the fingerprint and DNA tests."

Cragen's voice was firm, but the underlying concern he had for his missing detective and her partner was clearly evident. This was never more true than when Elliot turned his gaze toward the other man, his blue eyes glassed over with something Don knew all too well: guilt.

"I was here, Cap," his voice was tight with self-loathing. "We had a couple of drinks and came back here. I should've stayed... If I'd stayed she wouldn't have..."

His words trailed off and Don shook his head. "You had no reason to believe she was in any danger, Elliot. You can't blame yourself for this; Olivia wouldn't."

Somehow, it seemed that hearing her name snapped him out of it and he offered a curt nod. "I'm on it, Cap."

The older man watched as Elliot's gaze once more swept over the room, cringing when it landed on the wall furthest from them. The stark contrast of drying blood against the white paint was unsettling, but he held it together. Without another word, Elliot turned and left the apartment, his captain's eyes on him the entire way.

* * *

"Put the gun down, Olivia," his voice was smooth with a touch of irritation and amusement. His gaze remained on her; eyes as dark as her own bordering on manic. Still, she didn't lower the gun; refused to concede control to his possession.

She didn't speak, which made him sigh heavily, the sound reverberating through the empty room.

"Olivia, put down the gun; it's useless. You know as well as I do I've already removed the bullets.," he paused, his head tilting to the side. "I'm not going to hurt you, Olivia, unless you give me a reason to. I don't want to; that's not why you're here."

"Why am I here? Who are you?" Her tone was strong, confident. The amusement in his eyes faded at her tone; he'd obviously expected to have rattled her some, but her demeanor never cracked.

"There'll be time for that later," he evaded her questions, "but for now, I need you to put the gun down."

Olivia's eyes flashed. "Not a chance."

He sighed again, his left hand clenching in an effort to keep his cool. "You're only making things worse for yourself, Olivia. Now put down the Goddamn gun!"

She flinched slightly at the anger in his voice and unfortunately, it didn't escape his notice. A slow grin spread across his face then, the action making him seem all the more predatory. He took a step forward, though she refused to move back even an inch, and soon they stood nose to nose. His breath was hot on her skin, the smell none-too-pleasing, but she wouldn't back down. Not even when he suddenly produced a small knife and ran it along her jaw line.

"Are you always so stubborn, Detective?"

"What do you want from me?"

His face lit up at her question and he laughed; boisterous laughter that bounced off the walls, ringing in her ears with clarity. This was not a man on this side of sanity... no, this was one bordering the line of absolute batshit crazy. This realization changed everything and Olivia found herself changing tactics. She lowered the gun, but did not reholster it.

"Okay, look, I'm putting the gun down." The laughter ceased. "Good. Now let's... talk. See if we can't work something out and settle this peacefully."

He eyed her, another slow smile finding its way to his face. "You want to talk, Olivia? You want to get to know me? Or are you just biding your time until you think you can take me down? Charm me into lowering my guard and attack. I know how you cops work, Detective; I'm not a stupid man."

Olivia watched for a moment; watched as he fidgeted with the pocket knife he'd pulled on her only minutes before. How his eyes darted from one end of the room to the other. He was volatile, unpredictable and she knew she had to handle this delicately as to not get herself killed. At least until Elliot and the cavalry arrived, as it was becoming increasingly obvious she wasn't going to get out of there on her own. Elliot would come, of this she was certain. He was her partner, her best friend, and he always had her back. He wouldn't let her down now.

Letting out a short breath, she took a cautious step forward. "I don't think you're stupid. You're right, that is what I was trying to do but now I know it won't work. You're too smart for that."

His lips curled into a sneer. "Don't patronize me, Bitch."

Her eyes closed briefly and she fought for control. Disregarding his words, she focused her gaze on him. "Why don't you tell me your name? You obviously know mine."

His tongue poked out between his lips as he considering this; the knife still clutched in the hand closest to her. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of dried blood on its tip and she wondered if it were hers or if he'd attacked someone else. Was she the only one he had abducted?

"Sam."

His voice broke her out of her reverie, reminding her to focus on the present. She managed a smile and nodded.

"Sam, then. Sam what?"

"Don't push your luck, Olivia."

So much for that. "Okay, Sam. Can you tell me why I'm here, what you want from me?" _And how the hell you got me here _she added silently, cursing her lack of memory of the event.

Sam glared at her and took a step back. His grip on the knife tightened and he shook it at her while he rocked on the balls of his feet; barely concealed rage registering on his face. His body trembled, the knife coming dangerously close to her jugular.

"You! It's all your fault! You bitch!"

Olivia jumped back as his leapt forward, his sudden outburst shaking her composure. She found herself flush against the steel door she'd pushed open a mere hour ago, and took a hollow breath as she attempted to regain her footing in the mess she'd inadvertently found herself in.

As calmly as she could muster, she resumed her questioning. "What's all my fault, Sam? What did I do?"

"You!" The knife came at her again and she recoiled this time when she felt the blade press against her cheek. "You destroyed everything!"

The telltale feeling of blood trickling down the right side of her face caught her off-guard; she hadn't thought he'd pressed hard enough to cut her. Raising her hand to cover the new wound, she probed further.

"What did I do, Sam? Did I arrest you, someone close to you?"

"No," his reply was short, leaving her at a loss. Outside of her job, she couldn't fathom what she could've done to push anyone to the edge like this.

"Tell me. Tell me so we can fix it."

For an alltoo brief moment she thought he was going to answer, until his face burned a red hue and his anger voice echoed in her ears.

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!"

Before she could blink, before she could retaliate, his fist swung at her and the only sound that escaped her parted lips was a strangled gargling noise before darkness enveloped her once again.

* * *

The neighbors he'd questioned had been less than helpful. Only the elderly woman across the hall had claimed to hearing anything, and even that was nothing more than a few shouted, intelligible words followed by some loud banging she couldn't definitely say came from Olivia's apartment.

Each moment that ticked by was another crack in his already shredded heart and it was getting to him more than anyone could know. Not knowing where she was; if she was hurt, or, as much as he didn't want to even consider it, worse, was killing him. They had nothing to go on, at least not yet. He hoped that would change after his visit to their resident medical examiner.

The overwhelming scent of chemicals and death greeted him as he pushed open the door to the familiar office. The woman he was in search of was engrossed in a file when he entered, but looked up as he approached. She offered him a wan smile which he failed to reciprocate.

"Tell me something good, Doc," Elliot said in lieu of hello, his voice strained; the tired lines on his face making him look much older than his years.

Melinda nodded toward the wall where a transparent copy of a DNA test result sheet was clipped to the light board.

"The blood from the living room is without a doubt Olivia's. Judging from the amount of blood, I doubt we're looking at anything serious or life threatening," she quickly interjected at the look of absolute fear that crossed his face. At her words, he immediately exhaled with relief.

"There was also a shirt found in the bedroom with more blood on it. Two types."

Elliot's head shot up at this, hope brightening his eyes for the first time that day.

"Two? The second belong to our perp?"

She gave him an imperceptible nod of the head. "I ran it through the system. came up with two hits."

His brow furrowed at this revelation. "Two? What -"

"Two rape/homicides committed in the last two weeks," she paused, turning toward the computer. Elliot peered over her shoulder, his eyes widening at the information staring back at him.

* * *

"What've we got?" Cragen asked the moment Elliot stalked back into the squad room, his face set and his stride determined.

Elliot didn't say a word as he made his way to his desk, flipping through a few folders before finally locating what he was searching for. Once he had everyone's attention, he turned to pin two photos to the board.

"Kelly Moran, twenty-two, disappeared from her apartment last Saturday. She was found Monday morning, raped and stabbed to death two blocks from Liv's building." Pointing to the next picture, he continued. "Jordan Hervson, nineteen, raped and shot point blank to the head. Was reported missing by her mother Monday evening; her body was found Wednesday afternoon, in an alley just around the corner from Liv."

Pivoting to face his co-workers, he gave them a grim look.

"Fluids were found in both victims," Elliot exhaled loudly. "And in Olivia's apartment."

* * *

tbc. 


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer _: Just borrowing them for my own twisted and sadistic purposes.

_Author's Note : Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Sorry this took so long to get out; two power outages and a computer crash conspired against me while writing this part. Hope you enjoy!_

**Twisted Us  
Chapter Three  
Written by Shay**

Heaving a huff of frustration, Elliot landed one final blow to the vinyl bag he had been abusing for the better part of an hour and let his arms fall to his sides in defeat. His eyes closed briefly as he allowed his head to roll forward, back, in hopes of relieving some of the tension building there. They shot open w hen it became obvious it wasn't going to help.

Grunting, he did away with the protective gloves on his hands and headed toward the men's lockeroom for a quick shower. It was thankfully empty as he shed his clothing and stepped under the cool spray of the shower. Exhaling loudly, his head dropped forward, his hands pressed evenly against the tiled wall as the water washed over him.

He was going crazy and it wasn't a feeling he particularly enjoyed. His partner was missing, taken at the hands of a two-time murderer and rapist. They'd found no apparent motive, no known link between Olivia and the other two victims. Other than the matching DNA from all three crime scenes, they had nothing to go on. And time was running out.

The two other women had been killed within forty-eight hours of their abductions and they were already nearly at the halfway point with Olivia. If they didn't find her soon…

His entire body tensed at the image of finding her in the same manner as the two victims before her and his stomach lurched. Up until then, he hadn't allowed himself to contemplate what would happen if they didn't find her in time, instead focusing on actually finding her, but now the thought hit him full force. The bile rose in his throat, burning its way up until he was coughing, choking on the imagery.

He sank to his knees, what little he had found the time to eat that day forcing its way up. He gagged as the meager contents of his stomach emptied themselves, the pungent stench of vomit only making it worse.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought for control but the battle was already lost. Tears of pain, frustration, of anguish pushed past his lashes, strolling down his cheeks to mix with the cooling water. Elliot wasn't usually one to display such a show of emotion; he hadn't been in such a state since the night Kathy'd left him and even then his pain had quickly manifested into anger, which he'd taken out on anything he could get his hands on. This was different somehow; somehow more trying. He'd never been more scared in all his life as he was then, the unknown tugging at him relentlessly.

Letting out a ragged breath in an attempt to regain some semblance of control, he slowly got to his feet. The rush of water swept away the evidence of his momentary breakdown and he reached out to turn the spray off. Without the comforting sounds of the shower, he was thrown into silence, something he wasn't willing to embrace at the moment. Instead, he toweled off and quickly redressed before heading back towards the squad room.  
The clock on the far wall boasted the time of twenty after three as he entered, and the reigning darkness outside the window reminded him just how late it was. And just how long Olivia had been missing.

His weary gaze met the dark, penetrating eyes of his colleague and Fin nodded in understanding at his silent apology. The other man had taken the brunt of his anger a few hours earlier, after they'd hit another brick wall in their search for Olivia.

"You all right?" Cragen's voice inquired as Elliot settled back into his desk chair.

He glanced up. "I won't be all right until we find her, Cap."

Don nodded empathetically, but his game face soon reappeared. "I need to know you're handling this, Elliot. I don't want to have to take you off this case, but I will if there's a replay of what happened here earlier. I know you're worried; we all are, but I need your word that you can keep the lid on your anger."

Elliot eyed him for a moment, but reluctantly nodded. "This isn't just another case, Don, you know that. But I've got it, don't worry about it."

Dark eyes studied him before Don nodded. Patting him on the back, he turned toward his other detectives.

"All right, folks, what've we got?"

* * *

_8:38am_

Her head hurt. Actually, hurt was probably an understatement; it felt more like a jackhammer pounding its way through her skull. She groaned quite audibly, only to find the action made it worse. _Breathing_ made it worse. Shit.

Inhaling deeply, she steeled herself against the expected rush of pain and forced her eyes open. She blinked involuntarily as the light hit her eyes, hissing as it invaded her head. She belatedly wondered if she had a concussion.

Giving herself a minute to adjust, she pushed that thought aside and focused on opening on her eyes to take note of her new surroundings. She was in a different room than before; it was obviously a basement of some-sort, judging by the small glass-block window above her. The floor was carpeted below her, the walls drywall instead of dirt. There were a few sparse pieces of furniture: a single recliner in one corner and a small desk beside it.

There was no door, just an entryway that led to another room. Olivia craned her neck in an attempt to get a feel for it, but was greeted with only darkness.

Shifting, she lifted her hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face, only to be met with resistance. She growled in aggravation when she found herself staring at a pair of handcuffs binding her wrists together. Upon further inspection, she saw they were police department issue, probably her own.

"Dammit," she swore, ignoring the flash of pain that assaulted her as she pushed herself to her feet. The pain subsided once she was standing, but she still took a moment to collect her bearings. Her gun was nowhere to be found and for the first time since this ordeal had begun, she felt her confidence slip slightly.

She was God-knows where, with an armed psychopath, without her gun or any other form of protection. Her hands were cuffed in front of her, limiting even her physical capabilities of overtaking the larger man. It was infuriating.

"Where are you, Elliot?" She whispered into the room, the sound a weary rasp. Surely they were looking for her; they'd had to realize she was missing by now. They had to be; she couldn't entertain the thought of what would happen if they weren't. She wouldn't, couldn't, go there; they were looking for her and she had to keep her wits about her until they came.

Without much provoking, her thoughts drifted toward a more appealing topic: Elliot. He had surprised the hell out of here when he'd kissed her. Not in a bad way, never bad when it came to him, but it had thrown her for a loop. It was something she'd envisioned in her head a million times before, thought she would never say as much to anyone, but she had to admit reality far surpassed fantasy. His lips had been tentative; shy almost, something she would never have thought to attribute to the man that was anything but. She wondered if his heart had exploded with a myriad of conflicting emotions like hers had. Wondered if he'd been up all night, reliving those few blissful moments, agonizing over each detail as she had. Curious if he had the slightest inkling of what he'd awaken in her; everything she'd fought so hard to keep under the lid for nearly eight years. If maybe he'd been doing the same.

Shaking her head, she sighed. Now was not the time to be dwelling on these things. She couldn't afford to be Olivia, the woman, at the moment. The situation called for Detective Benson and she was determined to play the part flawlessly. It would do no good to dawdle over questions she couldn't possibly answer. That would have to wait.

Lining her thoughts into their proper positions, she started for the darkened room, eyes always on the move. Despite the raging pain in her head, she was alert; focused. She kept her hands in tight fists, ready to inflict any damage she could if the situation warranted it.

She paused just inside the entryway, narrowing her eyes against the darkness. There wasn't any sound to be heard; nothing to indicate the crazy bastard that had abducted her was anywhere around.

Without warning, her shoulder hit something poking out from the wall and the room flooded with light. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, she gasped. Disbelief ripped through her like a bullet and she stumbled backward.

Staring back at her were hundreds, if not thousands, of pictures. Some were real photos, some newspaper clippings; some of a child, more of an adult, all of them with one common bond.

They were all of her.

* * *

The squad room was in what could only be described as pandemonium. Word of the missing detective had spread like wildfire through all the news outlets and they were being bombarded by tips from every Tom, Dick and Harry in the five boroughs. Most were unsubstantiated, while others called for further investigation. Unfortunately, none of them so far had yielded what they were looking for.

Men and women from other precincts had turned up hours earlier, offering their services in the search of their fellow officer. It was necessary and appreciated, but the extra bodies only contributed to the madness that had erupted in the one-six.

The shrill ringing of the phones bounced back and forth around the room, but was purposely ignored by the three SVU detectives and their captain. The four stood, hunched over Elliot's desk, quietly discussing what very little information they had. The search for a link between the perp's first two victims and Olivia had proved futile, other than the three all being from the same neighborhood.

Consultation with Huang had confirmed this; the psychiatrist had been certain that the first two women had been red herrings and that Olivia had been the intended victim all along. This didn't sit well with any of the other men, and the desperation sprung up a notch.

They had then turned to a tried and true method - going over all of Olivia's past cases where she'd been threatened in some way. It was tedious job at best, especially with the time constraints, but it was their best bet for the time being.

"Munch, Fin, I want you to check out this Ricardo Hesston. Find out what he's been up to," Cragen doled out orders. "Elliot, keep cross-checking Olivia's case-files with recent parolees. I wan that list done yesterday. We don't -- Doc!"

Three pairs full of the tired alertness only officers of the law know intimately glanced up at his unexpected greeting. Melinda managed a half-hearted smile at their acknowledgement of her presence.

"Captain, Detectives'. I have something you're going to want to see."

Without waiting for a reply, she rounded the side of Elliot's desk, dropping a closed manila folder in front of him. Her hand settled on top of the folder and her gaze lifted to meet Don's.

"I was reviewing the evidence from Olivia's apartment; I kept getting this feeling there was something not quite right about it, something that didn't fit. So I retested the two blood samples, same as before. Upon further inspection, I found it. I don't know how I missed it the first time."

She paused, her eyes meeting each of the mens' before continuing.

"When I compared the DNA from Olivia to the DNA of her abductor, it was more than obvious. You're not looking for some random guy off the street. You're looking for Olivia's half brother."

Silence swept over them as her words sunk in until Elliot's large fist came down with a resounding thud.

"Son of a bitch!"

* * *

With wide eyes, Olivia trailed a finger over the collage that depicted her twelfth year of life in shocking clarity. Most of the photos were slightly blurry, obviously taken at a distance. There was a small clipping from what she recalled as her middle-school newsletter, congratulating her on her fourth-place standing in the citywide spelling bee. Her eyes misted over at the sight of her mother and her younger self in the park, laughing on one of their good days.

Sucking in a faulty breath, she allowed her gaze to travel to the next section of photos: her at the age of thirteen. They were all grouped as such, year by year, starting at what she presumed to be about six-months.

The realization had been sudden and completely unnerving. Whomever these belonged to had been following her for nearly forty years. How the hell had she never noticed? She was a cop for God's sake, trained to see everything with an eagle's eye and yet she had never even suspected.

Anger exploded inside of her at the thought and her fingers curled around a random photo, ripping it from the wall, tearing it into pieces. Pivoting on her heel, she stalked over to the other side of the room where a solid oak door stood. Lifting her cuffed hands, she began banging on the wood.

"Where are you, you bastard?"

She'd barely gotten the words out when the door swung open to reveal another one, this one made out of iron bars. Sam stood on the other side, a slightly disturbing smile on his face.

"Olivia, it's so nice to see you. How's your head?"

Fire blazed in her eyes, which were narrowed threateningly at the man. The time for playing nice was over, as far as she was concerned.

"Who the hell are you, you sick fuck? How long have you been stalking me?"

Sam's grin widened. "I see you've seen your room," he paused, his next words taking the air from her lungs, "Father did such a wonderful job, didn't he? He loved watching you grow up; loved telling everyone about his daughter, the police officer. So proud of you, Father was. Isn't that sweet?"

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Dick's the man. Boo-ya._

_Author's Note: This chapter took forever; it just didn't want to cooperate with me and after three months of fighting with it, I'm posting it as is. Hopefully you'll enjoy it some. Only two more after this, I think._

_Thanks to C, for being the bestest ass-kicker a girl could ask for. What would I ever do without ya, babz?  
_

**Twisted Us  
Chapter Four  
Written by Shay**

The earth ceased to move and time came to a grinding halt. Up became down and down, up. The world swirled around her in diluted shades of gray; merely shadows of things she no longer recognized. The only thing she remained aware of was the endless loop of words playing her mind. Taunting her with reality; teasing her.

_Father. Daughter. Father. Daughter._

Two words, eight syllables, that had never held much meaning in her life were now anchored to the center of her existence. Her eyes dilated at the realization, her mouth gaping to form incoherent words that wouldn't come. Her chest tightened, heaved with the threat of a panic attack she couldn't control.

_Father. Daughter. Father. Daughter._

Her head shook of its own accord and she stumbled backward as her surroundings came back into focus. Her back hit the wall behind her but her gaze never left the man in front of her.

He was smiling, grinning like a madman at her reaction, as if it were what he'd been hoping for all along. Like he'd been waiting for her armor to crack and took the greatest pleasure in having been the one to accomplish the feat.

His dark eyes... dear God, his eyes. Her eyes. She gasped in recognition; how could she have missed it? For two days she'd been staring into a mirror of sorts and yet had missed the boat completely.

_No._

The logical side of her brain chose that moment to kick in, the sound of her own rational voice startling. Coming back into herself, she felt her initial shock being to wear off and the anger take hold.

Catching Sam off guard, she leapt forward, her cuffed hands claiming a scathing hold on the material of his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected attack and he sucked in an uneasy breath when she leaned in, her nose barely grazing his.

"Who the hell are you?"

Her captor remained stoic before a slow grin claimed his features, the cold reaction causing her to falter slightly. Still, she didn't release her hold on him even as his meaty fingers circle her wrists; blunt fingertips digging into soft flesh. Her steely gaze remained transfixed on him while he leaned forward, his hot breath dancing across her face.

"Why _Detective, _I would've thought you'd have it figured out by now. Guess you're as stupid as your slut of a mother."

Despite recognizing his deliberate intention of further eliciting her anger, Olivia couldn't help the dangerous growl that escaped her throat.

"Fuck you."

He laughed then, his fingers digging into her skin a little more harshly and she fought off the urge to wince.

"Hit a nerve, did I? _Sis_."

The word and its implications struck her as surely as if he'd hit her physically and she recoiled slightly, even as her hold on him tightened. "You're full of shit."

"Am I?" Sam cocked an eyebrow, his head tilting to the side as if to gesture around them. "Tell me, what does the evidence support?"

"That you're a psychotic, stalking bastard."

Eyes clouded over at her words, becoming wild as he tightened his grip. "Oh no, Detective Benson. I'm not the bastard, _you _are. In every pathetic, sordid sense of the word."

His words cut deeply, tugging at every insecurity she'd harbored since childhood. Feelings of inadequacy, because of who she was, where she came from. The little voice that had always hummed at the back of her mind was now screaming and she desperately fought the urge to scream right back.

Blinking back the stinging threat of tears she refused to cry, Olivia zeroed in on Sam once more. Strapping on her cop persona, her face hardened into its interrogation stance. The emotional fallout that this moment would inevitably cause would have to wait until she was alone; she couldn't focus on the overwhelming revelation that had just been dropped into her lap. Not if she intended to escape this ordeal - physically at least. She would deal with it later.

"What do you want from me?"

"What I want," he spoke with barely concealed rage, "is for you to experience all the pain you've caused. All of it."

With that, he yanked her hands away from his chest with such force that the sickening sound of her nails being ripped from her fingertips echoed through the room. Pain seared through her, coming out in a strangled squeak as she stumbled backward.

Blood dripped from the damaged appendages, staining her dirt-caked shirt where she cradled her hand to her chest. Her stomach twisted and churned and despite having not eaten in close to three days, she heaved relentlessly.

Before Olivia even had the chance to collect her bearings Sam had hold of her again, this time by the back of the neck. He smiled widely as he produced the small knife he'd threatened her with earlier and placed it against her throat.

"Let the good times begin!"

* * *

The continuous and monotonous hum of the busy squad room buzzed around him, though Elliot was oblivious. His eyes, bleary with worry and lack of sleep, stared unendingly at the empty chair at the desk across from him. The unoccupied seat struck something deep within him; his panic at the possibility of never seeing it taken by anyone ever again. Or at least not by the _right _anyone. 

He wasn't, by nature, a pessimistic man. Even through the mind-numbing shit he saw day in and day out; even with the mess his personal life had faltered into, he'd managed to keep an optimistic, if not slightly cynical, outlook on things. Or at least tried to. This was different somehow. He'd seen the crime scenes of the first two victims; the gruesome blood baths courtesy of a lunatic. The same man that now had Olivia. Her brother.

"Shit," the word slipped past his lips before he'd even realized he'd spoken. _Her_ brother. _Her_ goddamn _brother_. That was the deal breaker there. The murdering, rapist mother fucker that had abducted his partner was her own flesh and blood. A man she didn't even know existed. And it begged the question that haunted them all: was this all a premeditated nightmare or just a sick crime of coincidence? He could only pray it was the latter.

The sudden slamming of the Captain's office door broke his reverie and Elliot's gaze snapped upward as Cragen stalked toward them, fire in his eyes and paper in hand. The older man's eyes traveled over the faces of his top detectives, silently requesting their presence at the evidence board.

Elliot met the questioning gaze of his colleagues, a dark dread festering in the pit of his stomach. Whatever news was coming their way couldn't be good, judging by the look on Cragen's face. He could only pray none of the heinous scenes playing out in his head had become reality.

Once the four men were situated, their bodies blocking the rest of the room's view, Cragen finally spoke.

"We've got a match on the prints," he paused, taping up a photo of an unfamiliar man. Elliot felt his heart plummet at the sight. "Samuel Holt, thirty-eight, of Brooklyn. Prints matched thanks to a brief stay at a state psychiatric hospital in Florida. Last seen leaving a bar not far from Olivia's apartment."

Silence washed over them as four sets of eyes took in the man that had effectively turned their unit upside down. The bastard that threatened the very heart of their squad; a woman that each of them men loved in a myriad of different ways, one that they would all put their lives on the line for, no questions asked.

Elliot couldn't look away, his eyes searching the photo for some telling resemblance to Olivia. Hoping, wishing, praying that he wouldn't find any. Cringing at the familiar dark eyes that stared back at him.

"- No sign of him since Tuesday morning," Cragen was saying when Elliot finally tuned back in. "Uniforms are sitting on his house and his ex-wife's place. Boss hasn't seen him since before the first abduction. A neighbor says there's a girlfriend in the picture; an Evie Cronin. Munch, Fin, I want you to talk to her. Find out if she's heard from him recently or if she knows where he might be. Let's find this bastard and bring Olivia home. Safely."

"On it, Cap," Munch was quick to agree, heading out the door before another word was uttered; Fin following close behind.

"Elliot, I need to talk to you in my office," the captain requested firmly; Elliot mutely nodded. As the two men turned an unfamiliar voice called from behind them.

"Elliot Stabler?"

Pivoting back around, Elliot nodded in acknowledgement at the nervous-looking man in the squad room's doorway. "I'm Elliot Stabler. How can I help you?"

Green eyes darted between Elliot and Cragen, who stood with arms crossed and penetrating, unyielding eyes trained on the stranger. The man visibly swallowed, his hands shaking as he thrust a cardboard box in Elliot's direction. The detective eyed him with distrust.

"What's this?"

The question seemed to startle him. "I-I don't know. I was just told to make sure you got it."

Glancing at his superior, Elliot cautiously reached for the proffered package, his gut twisting as he did. He didn't want whatever was in the box, he realized with stunning clarity. The dread in the pit of his stomach was back.

"By who?"

The demand was made abruptly, harshly, and the man blanched at Elliot's tone.

"I don't know! Some guy offered me two-hundred bucks to bring it here. That kind of money, you don't ask questions."

Cragen reacted first, covering the few feet between him and the stranger in a second flat. His face belied the obvious fear he shared with his lead detective towards whatever was in the box. Years on the job told them both it could be nothing good.

"Where did you -"

"Cap," Elliot's voice interrupted, the word coming out in shaky rhythm. Cragen turned, all color draining from his face at the sight.

The box lay open on his desktop while a familiar blue sweater rested in Elliot's shaking hands. Deep crimson stood out in stark contrast to the soft material; each streak of the life giving liquid branding both men in the heart.

From behind Cragen, the delivery man grunted out an unintelligible sound before raising his hands in defense against Elliot's accusatory glare.

"I didn't have anything to do with that, I swear. You've got to believe me; I didn't know what was in the box. Please -"

Cragen shook his head to silence the man, his eyes still on the sweater. In a tone Elliot had never before heard from the older man, he imparted his directions.

"Take it to the lab and put a rush on it. You, come with me."

"It's hers," Elliot barely managed." She was wearing it the night before she... I-I gave it to her, for her birthday last year. I -"

"Take it to the lab, Elliot. Now."

Blue eyes dilated, stinging with the threat of emotion he couldn't stand to let loose. Swallowing the rock that had lodged itself in his throat, he gently placed the knit shirt back into the box and stalked out of the room, his heart left behind.

* * *

Dusk had fallen upon the city again before Warner made the call to the precinct with the tests results for the blood from Olivia's sweater. while it wasn't a surprise in the least that it was found to be hers, it amped up the frantic urgency that had the squad room in a vice grip. 

Leads continued to pour in from the tip line; each one that appeared to have the slightest validity to it was investigated, keeping the three detectives and their captain on their toes. Each time they returned to the bullpen after chasing ghosts the air thickened with defeat just a little bit more, leaving raw nerves exposed and on edge.

It was ten minutes to midnight when Elliot and Fin reappeared in the doorway of the squad room, both their faces drawn tight with disappointment and another emotion all refused to name. Another lead shot down; another hour wasted.

Fin silently made his way to his desk, shaking his head at the questioning look in John's eyes. The older man sighed before chancing a glance at his other colleague who seemed to be rooted in his place by the door. His gaze was focused on the only empty chair in the room, save for his own; the one nobody had so much as touched in nearly three days. John could only imagine what was going through his head.

"Elliot."

Tired and bloodshot eyes darted over to where don stood in the doorway of his office, concern painting his face like a canvas. Elliot made no move to step into the room, only continued to stare at him for another moment before shaking his head and turning, muttering to himself as he went.

Having watched the entire exchange, John stood with the intention of going after him but retreated as Cragen held up a hand to stop him.

"I'll go. You two keep working."

* * *

The night was warm, the threat of rain hanging overhead as Elliot dropped unceremoniously onto the front steps of the precinct. A few officers loitering the area glanced his way as he did, but nobody approached and nobody said anything. They all knew the score. 

Resting his elbows on his knees, he buried his head in his hands and let out a groan of frustration. The images he'd fought for three days assaulted him from behind closed eyelids; images of finding his partner, his best friend, his... Olivia, broken and battered the way the other two victims had been found. Dead. The thought left him gasping for air as he sprung to his feet, blinking back the moisture that had gathered in the corners of his eyes. He couldn't start thinking of her like that. Not now.

"Elliot," Cragen interrupted his internal combat with a heavy hand on his shoulder. Elliot turned to meet his gaze.

"Cap, I just -"

"I know," Don nodded, understanding shining in his eyes. "We're all worried, Elliot. Olivia's like family to all of us."

Elliot's eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "I just... It doesn't seem like enough. Like we're not doing enough; _I'm_ not doing enough. She's out there somewhere with that son-of-a-bitch, who's doing God knows what to her. And we're all sitting here with our thumbs up our asses."

"We're doing everything we can -"

"It's not good enough!" Elliot's voice exploded from within. "It's not enough, dammit! If it were one of us out there, she'd be -"

The shrill sound of his cell phone gave him pause and he sighed heavily as he reached into his pants pocket to retrieve the distraction.

"Stabler."

He was quiet before glancing at Cragen, who was watching him with concern. Elliot's eyes widened and he swore he felt his heart jumpstart in his chest.

"Liv."

_tbc... ;)_


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry about the long delay in updates, I kinda lost my way with this one. Hopefully it's still worth reading.

**Twisted Us**  
**Chapter Five**  
**Written by Shay**

Her head throbbed, her bound wrists ached and her obliterated nails were so numb they were agonizingly painful again. The physical ails of her situation, however, were nothing compared to what swam through her when his voice sounded in her ear, caressing her name. Her eyes slid shut as the threat of tears became imminent and she tightened her hold on the phone.

She had always prided herself on her strength, her determination, her inherent independence no matter what circumstances presented themselves, both in her everyday life and on the job. Even when things seemed to be too much, she swallowed it gracefully and handled it internally, refusing to lean on anyone else. It was easier that way; easier not to have to depend on anyone, less chance of being hurt. She preferred it that way, really. But just then, in that moment, for the first time since she was a child, she felt the desire for someone other than herself; the need to rely on another human being. Him.

"Elliot."

His name escaped her parted lips like a prayer, an answer from heaven and she heard his sharp intake of breath. The sound was so familiar, so comforting, that she felt some of the tension of the moment melt away.

"Olivia - thank God. I thought you - I - are you okay?"

The relief in his voice caused a small smile to curl her lips upward.

"I'm okay. A little worse for wear, but I'll survive." There was a brief pause. "El, he - he's my -"

"I know," his words were gruff, "Liv, listen to me. We're coming, okay? Cap's working on tracing the call, so I need you to stay with me a little longer. Is there anything you can tell me about where you are?"

Grateful that he was managing to keep his wits about him when she felt like she'd all but lost hers, she straightened slightly. "I'm in a basement; glass-block windows. They're too high for me to try and reach. I can't tell you much more than that."

"Okay. It's okay. That's good. Where is he, Liv?"

Opening her eyes, her head tilted slightly as the hunched over form of her captor - her _brother_ - came into view. He grinned, wagging his fingers at her. She cringed, returning her focus to the man on the phone.

"He - he's right here. Watching me."

Elliot couldn't hide his surprise. "He _let_ you call me?"

He insisted," she shrugged, " threw the phone at me and told me to dial. I didn't argue."

"Shit. What the hell is this guy up to," he mused, more to himself than her. "Did he say anything; make any requests, demands?"

"No."

He heaved a frustrated sigh and she could just imagine his brow furrowing as he tried to decipher the perp's intentions. She could only hope he had better luck than she did; she as beyond baffled.

"Has he said anything, done anything, that might indicate what he has planned?"

_"Oh you're going to suffer, _sis_. Suffer like we all did because of you," his eyes twinkled with something she couldn't quite place, but was positive she didn't like. She bit back a yelp when he tossed the small, non-descript cell phone at her, the instrument colliding with her damaged fingertips. He smiled at her obvious pain and proceeded to further confuse her. "Now, call your partner."_

"Liv?"

His panicked utterance sprung her free of her daze and she exhaled shakily. "I'm here, El. I don't - just please... how much longer?"

"Just a little longer, Liv. I promise. Are you okay?"

Releasing a shuttering breath, she closed her eyes against her surroundings again, concentrating instead on his voice.

"I'm - I don't know. Just get me out of here, Elliot. I want to go home."

The uncharacteristic sound of defeat in her voice should've angered her; she wasn't one to give up without a fight. But the emotional upheaval of the past few days had suddenly become overwhelming and she found she didn't care anymore. Playing Superwoman wasn't going to get her anywhere now.

"I know you do, Sweetie," he said soothingly, the endearment slipping out almost naturally. "We're coming for you; just hang in there for me. I'm gonna bring you home. Can you -"

Olivia tensed abruptly when the soft sound of footsteps on the natural carpet she sat on approached unexpected, missing Elliot's last words. Sam shot her a feral grin as he pulled the phone from her grasp, despite her growl of protest. She could hear Elliot's frantic voice calling out her name as the other man lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Detective Stabler! How are you on this fine evening?"

She couldn't make out Elliot's reply but she could imagine. A frown appeared on her lips when Sam's face split into an amused smile.

"Oh, oh! That's not very nice, Detective. Didn't they teach you manners at the Academy?"

The mirth suddenly all but faded from his face, replaced instead with fury and his voice dropped an octave.

"No, you listen to me! She's going to get everything she deserves_. I_ run the show here, Detective, not _you_! You've got until six am or she's dead."

With that he flipped the phone closed and dropped it to the floor, smashing it with his foot. He glanced from the now scattered pieces to Olivia, his eyebrow cocked before settling back down in his chair and returning to his crossword puzzle.

Olivia closed her eyes.

* * *

"Fuck!" Elliot's fist came down hard on his desk, causing everything scattered across the top to wobble precariously. His cell phone sat uselessly in front of him; the glowing screen still blinking the duration of his last call. A mere four minutes and fifty-two seconds.

He could still hear her voice in his mind; her desperate pleas for him to come, to bring her home. Something he'd never expected from his normally vivacious and fiercely independent partner. She'd begged him to save her, with the unmistakable sound of tears lacing her voice. The memory was like a punch to the gut.

But she was alive; able to breath, to talk; just alive. The threat was far from over though, only just beginning really and it scared the shit out of him. She was counting on him to come to her, shit he'd promised, _sworn_, that he'd find her; that he'd be her fucking knight in shining armor. Yet the seconds continued to tick on by and he couldn't seem to move.

_Six a.m. or she's dead._

"No. No, no," his words were barely spoken; he wasn't even sure they'd left his lips but he felt them in his soul. "Hang on, Liv. Please keep fighting; just hang on. We're coming, we're coming -"

"Elliot," Cragen's voice urgently forced him back into cop-mode, got his limbs moving again.

"Don - Don, please tell me something. Tell me we know where she is - that she's going to be okay. Don -"

Cragen frowned, every line on his face curving downward. "It was a prepaid phone, not that it would have given us much to go on even if it weren't. Elliot - "

"He's going to kill her, Don. That's what that sick son-of-a-bitch said to me on the phone. We've only got six hours before he kills her. I promised her, Goddammit! I fucking promised her!"

"Elliot, listen to me," Cragen interrupted, laying a placating hand on the younger man's shaking shoulder. "We'll find her. We don't know her exact location yet, but we do have a place to start. The cell phone Olivia called from hit off of three towers in Jersey. I've already talked to the Chief of Police over there; they're ready and willing to help in any way they can."

Elliot stared at his captain for a moment before allowing a small dash of hope to flood his red-rimmed eyes. With his mouth set at a hard line and an imperceptible nod of the head, he pocketed his phone and badge before moving toward the door with determined strides.

"What the hell are we waiting for? Let's go."

* * *

The drive had taken too long; two hours wasted in an already too minute time-table, as Donald Cragen's Oldsmobile ate up the miles between Manhattan and some rat hole town in New Jersey. Elliot had spent the entire drive counting the minutes, the fucking seconds; his right pointer finger tapping the time out impatiently on the ledge of the open window.

One. _Tap_. Two. _Tap_. Three. _Tap._

The noise had become his companion, his constant; incessant yet oddly comforting in its repetitiveness. Something that would probably have driven him nuts had it been one of his kids on a trip to Nowhere, USA, but here it felt like his last tie to sanity. A reminder of how fucking _fast_ they were running out of time.

It was thirteen minutes after two when they finally pulled into the small community center for the nearly non-existent town. Exactly two hours since the click of the phone had reverberated over the lines, signaling the severance of the only contact he'd had with his partner in more than three days. Exactly two hours since he'd had any kind of assurance to her safety; since he'd known for certain she was still alive.

Lieutenant Henderson of the New Jersey State Police, a graying man of maybe fifty-five, greeted them the moment their shoes hit the pavement of the parking lot. His expression was all business as introductions were made, though there was a faint twinkle in his eyes that suggested he would be a riot after a beer or two. Maybe someone, under different circumstances, Elliot would enjoy the company of after a long day; another hard case. Right then however, Elliot couldn't care less if he was Santa Fucking Claus himself, so long as they found Olivia in time.

They followed the Lieutenant into the brick building where they were met by a group of men in uniform, all called in to help a fellow officer. He only hoped it wasn't all for nothing.

"Based on the cell towers your detective's call hit off of, we're looking at about four square miles. It sounds like a big job, but not as much as you might think." Henderson led them over to where a map of the area was tacked to a bulletin board. Tracing a rectangular outline drawn in red, he continued, "The area we're looking at is mostly rural, older folk and the like. Not a whole hell of a lot of places to hide and I've already got my men out searching. If she's out there, we're gon'a find her."

His own superior responded but the words seemed too far away for Elliot to comprehend. His eyes remained locked on the map in front of him as if that alone could tell him where she was. He was close; so close that he thought if he reached out he might be able to touch her; that if he tried he might be able to inhale the subtle feminine scent that was purely Olivia. So close, yet so damn far and time was quickly running out.

Jerking free of his daze, Elliot turned his attention to where the Lieutenant was exercising his rank and doling out instructions to the few men that weren't already out looking for Olivia. Cragen stood a few feet away, his phone pressed to his ear and his expression grim; Elliot recognized it as the face he wore when dealing with the brass. He could only imagine how that conversation was going. He figured he'd find out soon enough.

"Jerry," a voice suddenly rang out over the steady hum of the room. Henderson glanced up at the name and the man continued, "We've got press. TV crews are lined up for miles out there."

"Shit," he sighed, sparing a glance at Cragen and Elliot, who had joined him before nodding toward the officer. "Keep them back as best you can. I don't want anyone talking to them; Captain Cragen and I will handle that. Let's just focus on doing our job."

_Doing our job..._

The words sunk to the pit of Elliot's stomach like lead. Here he was, possibly within just a short distance of his missing partner and he was doing nothing. Instead he'd spent the ten minutes since arriving with his head up his ass; ten precious minutes while a raster of officers - people that didn't even know Olivia - were out doing _his_ job. _He'd_ promised to bring her home and yet was doing nothing to make that happen. What the hell was wrong with him?

Mumbling a few choice expletives at himself and swallowing the loathing that cloaked him in its thick grasp, he headed toward the door, mindless of everyone and everything around him. He paused only when Cragen's voice called out to him.

"Elliot?"

Turning, he leveled the older man with a dangerously dark gaze, daring him to even try to prevent him from leaving.

"You might be all right with sitting around and waiting for someone to bring her to us, Don, but I'm sure as hell not. I'm going to do what I came here to do. I'm going to find her."

Without waiting for a reply, he pushed past the glass doors and out into the night, only one objective in his mind.

Bring Olivia home.

_tbc..._


End file.
